


Poison

by onebizarrekai



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Darkfic, Dreams, Fucked Up, I'm Going to Hell, Implied V3 Spoilers, Kagehara being Kagehara, M/M, Non-Explicit, Other, Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Read at your own discretion, shuichi suffers he isn't ok, that's all i need to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebizarrekai/pseuds/onebizarrekai
Summary: “I just want you to see… that you don’t have to be afraid of the truth,” the reflection utters before laughing softly. “Isn’t that kind of funny? That’s your whole tragedy.”
Relationships: Shuichi Saihara/Kagehara
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Poison

**Author's Note:**

> me: I have a personal vendetta against Evil Pregame™
> 
> also me: fucking writes this
> 
> note, just in case: kagehara, a nickname for an interpretation of shuichi's pregame personality, is not objectively canon to v3 and is rather a popular interpretation. he is not being called kagehara in this fic (in fact, he isn't being called anything and I've even implied that his name is not shuichi saihara), but that's generally what people call him to differentiate him from shuichi.
> 
> this fic is not meant to be cute or quirky, so consider yourself warned.

Shuichi dreams of darkness. A slight headache is disturbing him and the air feels dense, a pressure against his chest as he breathes.

A silhouette is watching him. It shifts somewhat, Shuichi struggling to identify its likeness. He walks forward and is only greeted with a tall, full body mirror that extends up beyond where his eyes can see, his reflection within distorted. He slowly lifts one of his hands, placing one finger on the glass, then another, drawing in the unusual frigidity of the surface.

He doesn’t notice right away, but his reflection no longer seems to be his own. Shuichi notices the look in its eyes change, his skin paling as its fingers suddenly constrict around his own.

The distorted reflection pulls him through the freezing glass into a warped version of the trial room, a horrifyingly wide smile on its face. The room is nearly completely dark, but every object is outlined by white, almost like nothing is really there.

The changes that Shuichi’s reflection has undergone are more identifiable now. He is wearing what looks like a private school uniform, and the look on his face is completely foreign, almost describable as entranced. The iron grip he has on Shuichi’s hand is still intact.

“Have you tried to remember?” the reflection asks. Shuichi is silent, staring with upmost confusion. “There’s so much to be remembered, _Shuichi_.”

Shuichi can only watch as the reflection softens its grip on his hand, lifting it up closer as if to curiously inspect it. Shuichi tries to retract his arm, but he is denied this as his wrist is grabbed by the reflection’s other hand. Eyes move from his hand, up his arm, over his neck, and to his eyes, like the reflection is taking in every piece of him. “… I don’t understand,” Shuichi utters. “You have my face.”

The reflection smiles. It’s not welcoming, leaning on the rather sickly side. “I’m just what you’ve forgotten,” he says. “If you knew… oh, if only–maybe we could have so much fun.”

Shuichi swallows thickly, trying to decipher this. His twisted counterpart releases his wrist, walking behind him and calmly dragging fingers up his arm. “They’ve been returning our memories…” Shuichi says. “Is this something I forgot?”

“The truth about _you_ ,” the reflection tells him. “Or us, maybe.” Shuichi doesn’t feel safe when his shady counterpart moves in behind him and brushes his hand through his hair, twirling the strands between his fingers, but Shuichi keeps his mouth shut. “It’s a little unfair that they probably won’t bring it up… but that’s all right.”

Almost too suddenly, Shuichi is grabbed by the shoulders and whirled around, throwing off his balance for just a moment. He wants to flinch away as his warped other digs his fingers harder into his shoulders, eyes roaming enthusiastically.

“After all, _looking_ at you is like a dream come true,” the reflection says, beaming in the most disorienting way. “A detective, too… it’s all so perfect! But when… will you _break_?”

“L…Let me go,” Shuichi finally decides to try to assert, but of course, his counterpart only giggles.

“I guess they had to make _someone_ the hero,” the reflection says. He bounces upright, sighing softly. “I’m sure there’s plenty to be had cracking cases and sending others to their executions, but could you imagine making the perfect crime?”

Shuichi grabs the reflection by one of his arms. “Stop,” he demands. “You’re making zero sense. If you’re really me, you wouldn’t be spouting all this bullshit.”

“Oh, lay off,” the reflection sneers. “None of this really matters _like that_ , long run. Even if you die, it doesn’t matter. That’s what makes it so great!” He shows no reservation in leaning forward until his forehead is touching Shuichi’s. “You think we have nothing in common, but you feel it, don’t you?”

Shuichi throws down the counterpart’s arm, backing away. He clenches his fists, watching the other carefully. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

The reflection’s smile is growing far too wide again. He turns on his heel, walking to the side of Shuichi to circle around him. “The way your heart races when you smell blood…” the other whispers behind him. “The way you yearn to condemn… the things you think about those around you some days.” He’s leaning up behind Shuichi, muttering into his ear. The detective spins around, taking steps backwards. The reflection laughs. “You know it. You think to yourself… _I could do it. Do I care too much?_ So, so afraid.”

“Sh…Shut up,” Shuichi says. The counterpart strides close yet again, trailing a finger under Shuichi’s chin and taking hold of his face when the detective resists.

“I wonder… how much _more_ do we have in common?” the other suggests. Shuichi feels a rigid chill run down his spine as the counterpart places a hand on his chest and drags it up to touch the buttoned seam of his top.

“You’re… you’re not real,” Shuichi stammers, gritting his teeth. “You’re not.”

The reflection is quiet for a moment. He removes his hand from Shuichi’s face and slowly lowers it next to him. “Maybe _this_ isn’t…” he mumbles. “But I am. And maybe… you still feel pain the same way I do.”

Shuichi flinches as his warped other pulls a folding knife from the pocket of his school uniform. He turns on his heel to run, but the reflection cackles hauntingly as he catches Shuichi by the arm and pulls him in to hold the knife to his neck, a hand on his back. Fear swells up in Shuichi’s chest as he’s urged towards one of the many podiums in the room, finding himself trapped between it and the reflection.

“Hey, you don’t have to be scared or anything,” his other says. “Even if I killed you, it’s just a dream, anyway. You’ll wake up. But… I don’t really want to kill you… it’d be interesting, sure, but you’re a representation of my accomplishments.”

The reflection presses the flat end of the knife against Shuichi’s shoulder, slowly dragging it down as he pulls apart the collar of Shuichi’s outer layer. Shuichi twitches, air barely reaching his lungs amidst his terror. The counterpart brings his other hand to Shuichi’s neck, tightening his grip around it just enough to be uncomfortable.

“I just want you to see… that you don’t have to be afraid of the _truth_ ,” the reflection utters before laughing softly. “Isn’t that kind of funny? That’s your whole tragedy.”

“S…Stop it…” Shuichi says quietly. A knot turns in his stomach as the other pulls the top button of his white shirt apart, dragging fingers behind Shuichi’s neck and against the skin at the top of his back. Shuichi wants to squeeze his eyes shut as the reflection leans closer to his face. “It’s… just a dream… it’s _this_ that doesn’t matter. I’ll… I’ll wake up and forget.”

“Shhh…” Shuichi’s fingers tighten against the podium behind him as the reflection hushes him in his ear, his hair standing on end at the sensation of their cheeks touching. “You think dreams can’t change what’s out there? I know, Shuichi. I know that you’ll remember, because we’re so similar.”

Shuichi can’t stand hearing the reflection chuckle anymore, the distorted sound that resembles his own voice breaking through his mind. The blade is pricking through the fabric of his shirt collar, and Shuichi’s stomach twists even more as the reflection steps a leg between his and grabs his hair from behind with his empty hand.

“Forget this… _I dare you_.”

He pulls Shuichi closer to press a kiss like venom to his mouth. The warped other’s lips feels like fire; Shuichi tries to recoil, but the grip in his hair tightens. Shuichi’s blood boils hotter as the reflection tries to lick into his mouth and leans closely enough for thigh between his legs to touch him. He wants to whimper and he feels a wave of nausea as the knife nicks him near his collarbone and draws blood. It hurts–Shuichi can barely move, like all of his energy has suddenly been drained out of his body. The pressure in his chest is sucking the air out of his lungs.

Is this meaningless?

He’s sinking, sinking, sinking.

Shuichi catches the eyes of the reflection as the other moves away just enough to draw him in while pulling apart the rest of his outer buttons. That sick, twisted gaze, looking so thoughtful and amused. Shuichi wonders if those are his own eyes.

That face is smiling so widely as a scorching hand drags up to touch the skin of his torso. It wants more as it pleads to ensnare him. Why does it want more? Why does it want him to hurt? What is he trying to remember? Where are these thoughts coming from?

_This isn’t right–none of this is right._

_Dreams are still dreams._

_I am Shuichi Saihara, and no one else._

Shuichi pushes the reflection away with all of his might and the other almost collapses as he stumbles back. No, Shuichi isn’t done. His skin is hot, and he can feel sweat beading on his temples through the blinding glare of his racing thoughts. He closes a fist, gritting his teeth as he swings his arm, punching his counterpart directly across the face and knocking him to the ground. 

The other’s breath is rigid as he pushes himself up, holding a hand to his jaw. Shuichi shakes his own aching hand out, staring down at him as he feels something swell in his core. He doesn’t like it one bit when the reflection starts laughing.

Their eyes meet. “Did you like that?” the other asks him, smiling through the bruise already forming on his skin. “Does the power make you feel worth something?”

Shuichi is moving away from the podium where he had been previously cornered, his bitter stare at the reflection never faltering. His skin is tingling in every place that hands were and wanted to be. Blood is gathering at the small wound near his neck, beginning to trail down and threatening to stain his white shirt. Shuichi feels it and instinctively wipes at it, his own blood staining his fingers. He watches as his warped reflection sees it and anxiously lifts his own opposite hand to his mouth, fingers touching his lips.

“I will not listen to you,” Shuichi affirms. “You say I’m running from the truth again, but I have no real reason to believe anything you tell me. Do you think I’m that gullible?”

His counterpart finally rises to his feet, profusely scoffing. “Too bad…” he says, flinching for a moment as he presses his palm against his bruising jaw. “I _really_ wish you understood that I’m not your enemy. I haven’t been asking you to _believe_ anything, Shuichi–only _recall_.”

Shuichi narrows his eyes. “I’m starting to wonder if those things go hand in hand.” The other is laughing again. Shuichi hates it now.

“Are you sure you want to disappear before I can treat you further?” the reflection asks with a sickly smile.

Shuichi’s face twitches slightly as the persisting sensations loom over him. He has to fight the impulse to frantically close every one of his buttons. “Entirely done with that.”

The counterpart looks disappointed for a moment before raising his folding knife again. “Okay. Then I’ll kill you, so you can wake up.”

Shuichi feels urgent fear burst in his chest all over again as the other starts approaching him. He’s frustrated and tired, and he doesn’t care that he likely won’t feel real pain. “Do not,” he demands, taking a few steps backwards.

The reflection let out a curious hum, pursing his lips. “Oh, can I bite you first?” he asks. “Honestly, I kind of want to. You didn’t give me a chance to get to it.”

“I’ll hit you again!” Shuichi threatens without thinking. He’s backing up, and unfortunately bumps into a wall he doesn’t remember being there.

The other doesn’t look dissuaded in the slightest. “Nice.” He’s holding the knife up to his own face as if showing it off. “Do you think the dream will demand your victory or your submission? I wonder if it can’t choose between us.”

The reflection is eager to get close and uncomfortable with Shuichi up against the wall, lowering the knife to the detective’s stomach. Shuichi closes his eyes hard, anticipating the withering pressure, but in the next few seconds, it never comes. Slightly confused, he cracks open an eye.

His counterpart seemed to have thought that it would be hilarious if he held Shuichi in suspense and surprised him. A borderline sadistic smile stretching over his cheeks, the reflection drives the blade into Shuichi’s abdomen and the detective gasps for air, his mind entering a panic, unsure of how to process what he’s experiencing. Shuichi wordlessly collapses forward, clutching his side as his counterpart catches him.

The other simply holds him, swaying side to side on his feet like nothing matters. He moves a hand to hold Shuichi’s head, urging him to the crook of his neck and pressing an icy kiss to his forehead. Shuichi feels himself stirring, wondering if the reality of a killing game is really much better than this.

“Good luck, Shuichi…” the reflection whispers to him. Shuichi is blacking out when the other gently holds him upright, lifting his chin and pressing one more poisonous kiss to his lips. “Don’t forget about me.”

Shuichi wakes up in a cold sweat to the grating sound of the morning announcement, his head spinning and a phantom feeling still haunting him.

He stiffly raises a hand to his face, trembling slightly and wishing he could forget.


End file.
